Page 37 of The Call of Crimson (The Crimson & Shadows #2)

He pulls back, the vision reappearing in my head as he opens his eyes.

“Tell me what you want,” Elijah demands, before lowering his mouth to my breast and sucking through the thin fabric.

“I want what you wouldn’t give me the first time,” I rasp.

“And what was that?” he taunts, teeth scraping gently.

“I don’t want you to make love to me, Elijah.” I rock my hips, silently begging. “I want to feel what it’s like to be fucked hard by you.”

A low growl reverberates through his chest and out of his lips. “Be careful what you wish for, baby.”

“I know what I want,” I say.

With a rip of fabric, my nightgown tears down the middle, baring my breasts to his heated gaze.

He groans, rolling one nipple between his fingers while he sucks the other deep into his mouth, hips pistoning hard into me.

Each thrust slams into the deepest parts of me, leaving me breathless, gasping his name.

My nails scratch at his back as he drives harder, filling me to the hilt.

Pleasure coils low in my belly, sharp and hot and inevitable.

Elijah’s hand finds my clit, circling in slow, punishing strokes, sending me hurtling toward the edge.

I cry out, begging him to stop because I feel I can’t handle the pleasure.

“Do you really want me to stop, darling?” he pants against my ear. “The way your pussy is clenching my cock says otherwise.”

“No,” I whimper. “It just, it feels like too much.”

“You just need release,” Elijah purrs, his hips rolling against mine. “So come for me, baby.”

He thrusts twice more before the unmistakable tingle creeps up my spine.

“Open your eyes,” he commands, “and keep them on me.”

I obey instinctively, and see it all. Through his gaze.

The way my gray eyes brighten to silver when I'm about to come. The way my body trembles, flushed pink, writhing for him

“There are those beautiful grays I adore,” he hums.

He gives my clit a gentle pinch, sending me over the edge into beautiful oblivion.

My body arches off the bed, clenching and pulsing around him, my cry raw and hoarse as he drives me through every wave of pleasure.

Through his eyes, I see it all.

The beauty. The wildness. The sheer, breathtaking need.

He thrusts a few more times before he finds his release as well, spilling hot seed into me, a deep groan tearing from his lips.

The connection between us fades as we both fight to even our breathing.

“Do you see now?” he pants.

“See what?” I ask, still dazed.

“Why I’m obsessed with that sight,” he says, flashing a cocky grin that softens his perfect features.

I sigh. “I admit… that was pretty amazing.”

“You’re amazing,” he counters, voice low and sure.

When he pulls out, I whimper at the loss of him. A few minutes later, he returns from the bathing room with a damp cloth in hand.

Elijah tenderly wipes the mess from between my thighs, the care in his touch making my chest ache. Tossing the cloth aside, he pulls me up into a sitting position in bed.

“Time to get you dressed,” he says lightly, retrieving a brush from somewhere nearby.

He runs it softly through my hair, taming the loose waves that tumble around my shoulders.

“It’s going to be a long day, isn’t it?” I ask.

“A very long day, indeed,” he says, planting a soft kiss atop my head.

“Elijah, can you tell me why my tavern rooms are full of people from Pelanor?” Luella asks, her hands planted firmly on her hips. “And why I can’t get any of my usual shipments from Lennox?”

We have been holding court all morning, listening to the citizens air their grievances and requests for the crown’s support. Some issues are trivial, land disputes, bickering between merchants, but others are far more troubling.

More than one farmer has mentioned livestock disappearing, or worse, being slaughtered outright.

“Did any of your patrons mention why they were in Ciyoria?” Elijah asks, his face neutral.

But from my spot beside him, I can see the tension in the way his muscles pull tight beneath his tunic.

“They said their crops started failing a month ago,” Luella explains. “Then they heard of attacks at the borders and decided it was safer to leave. Or something like that.” She shrugs. “Hard to keep it all straight with no shipments arriving this week.”

Elijah rubs his jaw, troubled. “I’ll come speak with them myself,” he promises. “What goods are you missing?”

“Port and mead mostly. I rely on Caedel for beef, so hopefully I’ll still be able to feed my patrons,” Luella answers.

My stomach clenches, the news from this morning flashing through my mind.

“Caedel is—” I start.

“If you do not receive the beef this week, please let me know,” Elijah cuts in smoothly. “For now, you may see Lord Jaeson for access to the royal wine cellars. The vintages may not be as good as Lennox’s, but they’ll get you by.”

Luella nods. “Thank you, Elijah,” she says before heading off to find Lord Jaeson.

As soon as she’s gone, I turn sharply to Elijah. “Why did you keep the truth from her?”

He leans in, his voice pitched low. “Sometimes it’s better if they don’t know everything. Yet.”

“They deserve to know, Elijah,” I argue, my voice edged with scorn.

“I’m not saying they don’t.” His eyes are heavy with exhaustion. “But when the refugees arrive, the truth will come out soon enough. There is no need to incite uncertainty early.”

“They should feel uncertain,” I snap.

“It’s the crown’s duty to shield them from unnecessary fear,” he replies calmly.

“By lying?” I scoff. “What happens when the beef never arrives?”

Elijah shrugs helplessly. “Then we feed them from the castle stores.”

“We’ll need that for refugees,” I argue. “This isn’t sustainable.”

Elijah reaches for my hand, squeezing it reassuringly. “I know. This isn’t a perfect solution. It’s a temporary one. We'll find better answers as we go.”

“For the record, I don’t agree with this tactic,” I mutter.

“And that’s fine, Ophelia,” he says, lifting my hand to his lips. “I don’t want you to blindly agree with me. But no disagreements in front of the people, okay?”

Silently, I nod and drop my hands into my lap.

Several grueling hours later, we finally reach the last petitioner. My back aches from sitting, and my stomach growls loudly enough that Elijah smothers a laugh behind his hand.

The doors open, and in strides a male I’ve never seen before.

He’s tall, easily the tallest I’ve met, with cinnamon colored hair and sharp teal eyes that gleam like a polished blade. He looks... furious.

“Cillian?” Elijah says, clearly surprised.

The male crosses the floor to the dais in four long strides and tosses a sack at Elijah’s feet.

“I’m not your fucking guard dog, E,” he says, irritation rolling off him like smoke.

“Of course you’re not,” Elijah says mildly, bending to inspect the sack.

He opens it cautiously, swearing beneath his breath just as I catch a glimpse of the contents.

It’s a head. There’s a severed head inside the sack.

“What an odd gesture,” I murmur dryly, turning my gaze to the stranger—Cillian, apparently. “Who was it?”

Those teal eyes lock onto mine, roving over me with sharp, almost unsettling interest.

“A half-cracked mercenary I found trying to extort villagers,” he says simply. “The better question is, who are you?”

“Lady Ophelia Delencourt,” Elijah answers for me, eyes narrowing on the male. “This is Cillian, the King of The Midnight Brotherhood.”

The name has me craning my neck to stare between them.

My eyes flare wide. “The assassins?”

A low, wicked chuckle escapes Cillian. “We’re mercenaries, beautiful.”

“That sounds like a pretty way of saying you kill for coin.”

“Is that not what your soldiers do?” he asks, raising a brow.

“That’s different,” I argue stiffly.

“Is it?” he counters.

“Cillian,” Elijah interrupts before the debate can escalate. “You’re not exactly known for charity work. Why intervene?”

“Call it boredom.” Cillian shrugs, inspecting his nails.

Elijah sighs. “What do you want?”

“My normal fee is one thousand Remis,” he says lazily. “Or...” His lips curve into a wicked grin. “I’ll settle for taking Lady Ophelia to dinner.”

Heat creeps up my neck, but I fight the blush.

Elijah is on his feet in an instant, stepping between us. “She’s not some whore you can barter for.”

“If I thought she was a whore, I would’ve asked to fuck her,” Cillian keeps his voice maddeningly even. “So, what do you say, beautiful?” he adds, locking eyes with me.

I stroll down the dais, meeting them both with a slow smile. Giving Cillian an appraising once over, I raise a brow.

The male is beautiful, I’ll give him that.

“Sorry, but Elijah already promised to feed me,” I say, yanking Elijah down by the front of his tunic. Our lips crash together, and he kisses me with the kind of desperation that borders on feral.

To drive the point home, I run a hand down his chest and over the front of his trousers, feeling him harden under my touch.

A low, possessive growl rumbles from Elijah's chest as he catches my wrist and pins it against his chest.

Message received.

Breaking the kiss, I whisper against his lips, “Delicious.”

“Behave,” Elijah warns with a dark look, before turning back to Cillian. “Does that answer your question?

Cillian laughs, a deep and hearty sound. “Oh yes, but it also created several more. Unfortunately, there is still the matter of payment.”

“Name something else,” Elijah demands, his tone tight.

“How about a drink,” Cillian suggests, “and a few truths?”

My brow furrows at the price he asks.

“In my line of work,” Cillian continues, “secrets, information, and truths are worth just as much as gold.”

“Fine,” Elijah grunts. “But I’m going to need a lot more than one drink.” Wrapping an arm around my waist, he tucks me into his side and leads us to the great hall’s side door as he calls, “You coming, Cillian?”

Cillian catches up easily, even beating us to the door and pulling it open with a smirk.